


a whisper on my shoulder

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [105]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drunkeness, Gen, Generic Pietro Lives Future AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: The Maximoffs and Drunkeness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt, on tumblr [Here](http://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/post/157668162585/for-the-ask-game-maximoff-twins-are-you). Title is from Woodkid's _[The Other Side](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0r1qORcBPU)_ , which I listened to while writing this, as well as IAMX's [Oh Cruel Darkness Embrace Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJMmkAlx0lI).
> 
> I think this prompt was meant to be fluffy. Forgive me?

**i.**  
“Are you drunk?”

I mean. Wanda probably isn’t asking in seriousness: since the experiments it’s very hard for him to get drunk. He still _can_  if he drinks like. Seriously good vodka or not-making-you-blind moonshine and by drinks he means _chugs_ , but...

“Of course not, sister,” he says anyway, tucking her against his side as her feet slip over the cobblestones. “It’s just bleedover from your mind.”

He feels the amusement of her thoughts then, warm crimson like blood, bubbling up like-

“Don’t think of that,” Wanda says softly. Her movements are ill-coordinated, but she spreads scarlet over his forehead and sends away the memory of Father’s gurgling breaths in the chasm beneath the floor.

They stay still for a moment, caught in the soft orange light from a streetlamp, like flies in amber, before Wanda sighs and pulls herself up. “Home,” she says decisively, then wobbles, and falls back against him. 

As he guides his sister home she mumbles, “I’m gonna have such a hangover in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

 **ii.**  
They don’t go out drinking much often, to be fair. It doesn’t really do anything for him - though it is nice to waste Stark’s money - and for Wanda...

“Sometimes it’s nice. Sometimes it makes me want to be sick.”

He doesn’t need her to explain to understand. He feels it from her mind, every time.

 

* * *

 

 **iii.**  
“You’re drunk, Wanda,” he says gently, steering her from the bar. 

She leans into his touch readily, trusts him, as she ever has, to keep her safe.

Sometimes he’s feared that she’ll pull away from him when she’s like this, when there’s a greater chance of those small sinuous worries of hers to come coiling up to the surface, but they never do. The currents of her trust, the currents which have been there since they were small, are so very much stronger than single simple worries.

Her hair is soft, even through the layers of his shirt and jacket, and the single curl of it that gets caught against his skin is no irritant. One of her hands reaches to his, her fingertips gentle on his knuckles.

“Excuse _you,_ ” she says in slurred Sokovian. “I’m a delight.”

 

* * *

 

 **iv.**  
Wanda levitates him home after the time Thor gives him a few drops of Asgardian liquor. It’s strong stuff, so _so_ strong, and it tastes like honey, sweet as the stuff he and Wanda used to slather on bread and catch dripping from each other’s fingers as children.

It makes him remember the few truly happy times of his life and he’s giggling as Wanda levitates him down the hall to the room the share. 

“I’ve missed seeing you this happy,” she says softly as she sets him on his bed. She sits at the edge of hers, watching him where he’s splayed, flat on his back staring at the ceiling. “Usually you’re either serious or being a dick.”

This is true, but also: he remembers the last time she was drunk.

“Shut up,” he says, smiling, laughing, and Wanda’s smile makes him smile only more. “I’m a delight.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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